


wild flowers

by kaclydid



Series: Humors of Whiskey [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Character Background, Other, kid!Reader, prequel to humors of whiskey, teen!arthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23918224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaclydid/pseuds/kaclydid
Summary: a look into how the reader joined up with dutch and the gang. backstory for reader from my fic Humors of Whiskey.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Reader
Series: Humors of Whiskey [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1724053
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

1879:

They had been riding for so long, Arthur wanted to scream. Miss Grimshaw sat beside him as he drove the wagon, following Dutch and Hosea. The small group had started moving more as Dutch and Hosea took to more illegal means of money making.

Arthur had gotten used to it. His father wasn’t the straightest man either. Crime had come easy to Lyle, and Arthur had been living with Dutch long enough to know how to properly steal. 

The sun was just about at its zenith as the small caravan pulled off the road near a creek. Letting the horses drink, Arthur moved around a bit, following Dutch as they surveyed their surroundings and gathered water and herbs growing on the water’s edge. 

“What say we fish some?” Hosea asked as he stepped up to the covered wagon where Arthur was sitting. “Come on.”

“But Dutch said –” 

“Forget what Dutch said. We’ll be here for a while yet,” Hosea smirked, grabbing his rod and tackle. “Come on.”

Dutch made no protest as Arthur and Hosea walked off to the water’s edge. Miss Grimshaw had set up a small cookfire as Dutch relaxed against a log. 

Arthur sighed as he followed Hosea, glancing over his shoulder. “Hey, where we headed anyway?”

Hosea shrugged. “Couldn’t tell ya, son,” Hosea answered truthfully. “Know we’re somewhere in Montana now though.”

Arthur sighed, stepping over a log. “We’ve been movin’ for weeks. The wagon’s gettin’ crowded …”

Hosea had stopped, slowly setting aside his fishing gear as he drew his gun. “Quiet, son,” he started, looking over to ARthur. Across the shallows of the river was a wagon, two of the four wheels splintered and laying in the water. Canvas still covered it, but a corner had come untied and flapped in the breeze. Furniture and trunks were stacked in the back, along with a bench covered in blankets. 

Arthur had followed suit, removing the pistol from his hip as he followed Hosea. “What do you think happened?” he asked.

Hosea stood straighter, looking around. “Go get Dutch.”

“What’s wrong?”

Hosea knelt by the wagon, bending low to look under the axle. As he did, a small sound came from beneath the rig, almost a cry. Hosea holstered his gun, and held out a hand. “Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “Come on, you’re alright.”

You sat, clutching the rag doll to your chest. Your stockings and dress were covered in mud to your knees from where you had been cowering under the wagon. The bonnet you wore had come loose and fell off as you climbed out from under the wagon. As you did, you noticed the teenager standing nearby, and you took an involuntary step back. 

“Come now,” Hosea said soothingly. “Where’s your family?” 

“I don’t know,” you whispered, voice obscured as you curled tighter into the doll held under your chin. 

“How long have you been hiding under there?” Hosea asked, crouching down in front of you.

You looked up to the teenager, then to the sky, before turning back to the older man. “Yesterday,” you answered. “We stopped to get water, and then …” Tears welled in your eyes as you spoke. 

“Shh, it’s alright, you’re safe now,” Hosea spoke softly, holding out a hand for you to take. You fell into his arms, sobs racking your body.

“Get the fishing gear,” Hosea said over his shoulder as he lifted you into his arms. 

Susan and Dutch ran to Hosea as they entered the small camp once more. “What happened?” Dutch asked, stepping forward. 

You cowered closer to Hosea as the others crowded around. “Found her,” he answered.

“The wagons just down the hill,” Arthur spoke up. “Didn’t look like too much trouble. We can go check it out …”

Dutch nodded, stamping out his cigar underfoot. “Susan, be a dear …?”

Susan nodded, holding out a hand for you. “Come on, dearie. You’re covered in mud.”

***

You sat, feet swinging as your legs hung off the end of the wagon. Your rag doll sat beside you, a metal cup in front of it, as you pretended to have a tea party with the toy. 

Susan watched you talk to your toy as Arthur and Dutch entered camp. “Anything?” she asked.

“Nothing,” Dutch sighed, looking over to you. “It’s gettin’ dark.”

“She said she’d been there since yesterday …” Arthur started. 

“The closest town’s … almost three days ride,” Dutch mumbled. 

“We can’t leave her,” Hosea interjected. 

Arthur pulled his satchel around, digging into it to produce a photo plate. “We found this,” he said, handing it to Miss Grimshaw. 

Miss Grimshaw nodded. “We’ll get some rest, and head to town. If her family’s out there, we at least have to try to find them.”

Dutch nodded, as Hosea agreed. “She’s in your care, Susan,” Dutch smirked.

You hummed a tune as you played with your doll, ripping pieces off the biscuit you were eating. Miss Grimshaw softly said your name to catch your attention, returning the smile you greeted her with. “That’s a beautiful doll. Does she have a name?” 

“Tabitha,” you answered. “Tabby for short. She doesn’t like biscuits,” you added, popping a piece of the biscuit into your mouth. 

“We are going to take you into town to try and find your parents,” Miss Grimshaw started, holding out the photo. “This is them, right?”

You looked at the picture only briefly before turning your attention to Tabby. “Yes, ma’am. Mama, Papa, and brother.”

“Brother?” Miss Grimshaw asked, looking to the photo. The family of four was situated around the sitting mother, you in her lap. The man standing behind her must have been your father, and the young boy, no older than Arthur, stood to the side. “What’s his name?”

“Jeremiah,” you answered. “He picks on me and Tabby. Says I’m too slow.”

Miss Grimshaw smiled briefly. “Do you know what happened yesterday?” 

“Unh uh,” you shook your head. “Mama told me I could pick wild flowers …” you picked up Tabby and pulled the small purple flower from her braid. “Here!” 

“It’s getting late,” Miss Grimshaw sighed, reaching around you to fluff up the bedroll in the back of the wagon. “You should get some rest.”

“Miss Grimshaw?” you asked, kneeling on the bedroll as you turned to the woman. “Do you think we’ll find my mama and papa?”

“We’ll do everything we can, dearie,” she smiled. “Get some rest.” 

“Goodnight Tabby,” you hummed, curling into your doll.


	2. Bessie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet Bessie for the first time when Hosea leaves the gang on one of his trips home to his wife.

You looked up as Hosea finished tying off the wagon’s load. You didn’t know what was coming, but you realized a bit late that Hosea, the man who had taken you under his wing as his own … was leaving.

“But, where’re you goin’?” you asked, Tabitha clutched in your arms.

Miss Grimshaw stepped behind you, sliding a small case into the wagon. “All set then?”

“I think that’s it,” he smiled before kneeling down in front of you. “I’m not leavin’ you, little dove,” he smiled, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Unless you want to stay with the teenaged idiot and his equally stupid mentor.”

Brows furrowed in question, you followed Hosea’s gaze as he looked over to Dutch. Dutch only laughed, puffing on a cigar as Miss Grimshaw sat beside him. Arthur sat, bent over his fishing rod as he tried to untangle the line. Turning back to Hosea as he stood to his full height, you shifted from foot to foot. “You’re leavin’?”

Hosea knelt back down. “I’m goin’ to see my wife. I thought you would like to come with me. I’ve told her a lot about you. How smart and brave you are.”

“You’re married?” you asked, perking up a bit. “How long will you be gone? I want to meet her! Is she pretty?”

Dutch laughed, stepping up and hauling you into his arms as he raised you onto the wagon. You giggled as he placed a kiss on your cheek. “Behave yourself, dove,” he started. “Don’t send ol’ Hosea runnin’ after you.”

“I’ll be good! I promise!” you smiled, sitting straighter on the bench. “I’ll miss you though! Will Hosea read to me?”

“I’ll teach ya to read,” Hosea smiled, climbing onto the bench beside you. “So you can argue with Dutch about the social classes of America post war.”

“Stay safe, old friend,” Dutch waved. “Take care of our girl.”

“Give Bessie a kiss from me,” Miss Grimshaw smiled with a wave as she stepped up to Dutch’s side, hugging his arm.

***

You hadn’t realized Hosea had a life outside of the small ragtag group that moved around the country. He had always seemed like someone who had two many fingers in pies, but you also had come to see him as the caregiver, and more levelheaded of the trio of adults. Where Dutch and Miss Grimshaw would yell and reprimand Arthur, Hosea spoke firmly and evenly. When you would skirt your chores, and Miss Grimshaw reprimanded you, Hosea always made you smile afterward.

The ride to his homestead was uneventful. Two days on the road, you were happy to be off the wagon. Hopping down into the dirt, you looked up to the house. “Does Arthur know her? Has she ever been camping with everyone?”

“Sadly, no,” Hosea answered, taking your hand in his as he started for the house. “We’ve only been married for a few years, but she prefers to live here. I visit her as often as I can.”

“Did you tell her about me?”

“Told her everything,” Hosea smiled. “Told her how I found this little girl quivering in the mud, near an abandoned wagon a year ago and how she had instantly lit up our lives.”

A blonde woman stepped out of the house, a large smile on her face. “Hosea!”

“Bessie, this is Little Miss Harlow,” he smiled, “Our adopted daughter if you will.”

“Well aren’t you a pretty thing,” Bessie smiled, bending low. “What’s your doll’s name?”

“Tabitha!” you smiled. “Tabby for short. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Matthews!”

***

You hadn’t realized it at the time, but you liked being away from camp with Hosea and Bessie. They treated you as if you were their own – which Dutch and Miss Grimshaw did as well, but this felt different. Bessie allowed you to help around the house, while Hosea worked. She taught you to knit and sew and Hosea tutored you in reading, writing, and arithmetic – all of which you had been previously tutored in, but since you had joined in with the group, the schooling had to continue.

A year had passed before you had known it, and you found yourself packing up your things as Bessie and Hosea said their goodbyes. It was … sad.

You didn’t want to leave. Not now.

Not now that you had some semblance of a home, with some new parental figures, which had been there for you, in a stable home.

Hosea had explained everything to you. That he couldn’t stay here longer, and that Bessie understood. She’d join up with the camp soon, when they reached a spot semi-permanently.

Bessie sighed as she sat beside you on the edge of the bed. “I know you’re upset, dear. I am sorry you cannot stay. I would love it immensely.”

“I know,” you answered. “Can I ask you something, Mrs Matthews?”

“Of course.”

“Does Hosea leave because of what happened at the Sheriff’s office?”

Bessie’s eyes widened as she looked down to you. Here, only ten years old and asking about the con job Hosea and Dutch had worked almost four years ago, long before they had found you. “Yes, and no.”

“Are they good people, Mrs Matthews? Hosea and Dutch? Arthur said they got in trouble with the Sheriff, and then ran away.”

“They are good men, dear,” Bessie reassured. “And Susan is a wonderful woman. She will protect you, and care for you. You are a part of this … dysfunctional family now, and we all care for you.”

“I’ll miss you, Mrs Matthews,” you smiled, wrapping your arms around her shoulders.

“Whenever you want to come back, just tell Hosea.” She pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you, dear. Be safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Harlow" used as a placeholder last name for reader. Will be used here, as well as companion piece Humors of Whiskey


End file.
